


The Favorite

by LJANdersen



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Love Triangles, MEFFW Secret Santa 2019, Mass Effect 1, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJANdersen/pseuds/LJANdersen
Summary: Tensions soar when Shepard chooses her ground team.  Krogan and turians are natural enemies.  More than the differences, it's the similarity that will tear them apart.  Maybe literally.  Garrus and Wrex share one thing in common and that one thing can't be shared: Shepard.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Urdnot Wrex
Comments: 27
Kudos: 117
Collections: MEFFW Secret Santa Exchange 2019





	The Favorite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xenowriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenowriter/gifts).



**The Favorite**

“You joining Shepard and me groundside?” Garrus glanced up at the armory’s door. His equalizer IV was nearly assembled, but the new scope mod was giving him resistance.

"You're the other one, huh?" Wrex lumbered into the armory and tugged a shotgun off the wall. He faced Garrus. “It’s _you_ joining Shepard and me, son.”

Garrus’s talons tightened on the rifle. Turian, son, kid. Always baiting him. Wrex’s teeth-baring chuckle had a grating quality Garrus was already tired of hearing. They hadn’t even hit the dirt yet. 

“Your armor’s dinged," Garrus said cooly. Wrex’s bulky armor was an eye sore. “Ever take that off to polish it? You sleep in it?”

“Ship is attacked, might wish you slept in yours.”

“The Normandy get boarded, there will be plenty of warning to get armed.”

“Resistance better not hinge on you assembling a weapon.”

“It’s a new mod.” Garrus slammed the scope down on its mount. It still wasn’t catching. Wrex's low chuckle made Garrus's teeth grit. 

The krogan was impossible. And he really did sleep in his armor. Garrus had suspected. Impractical, but then, proper military attire meant nothing to a krogan. Armor should be polished and buffed every morning, your weapon unassembled, cleaned, and resembled. It didn’t matter if you saw action or not. That’s what you did. Every morning. Garrus’s dad would have slapped him upside the crest with that sort of cavalier disregard for military uniform.

“Now Shepard …” Wrex chuckled checking the thermal range on his shotgun. “Shepard's not gonna be ready.”

The scope slipped from Garrus’s hand. He plucked it off the floor. Wrex met his eyes with a wide, toothy grin.

“You’re thinking about it too,” he said.

“Thinking of what?” Garrus snapped. He redoubled his efforts forcing the scope into place.

“Shepard,” Wrex said and lowered his voice. “That nightshirt. The white one. No weapon hidden there. You can tell. Light hits just right –”

“This really appropriate?” Garrus slammed the scope down so hard it clicked. Finally.

“You like her in her night shirt. Seen you looking.”

Garrus sputtered. “She’s our commander.”

“First human battlemaster worth respecting. But I can admire the curves.”

That flimsy cotton did show her curves. Garrus fiddled with the rifle barrel. A wave of heat crawled up his neck. She was so soft and delicate. It should have been a turn off. Her waist … well, it was, uh … supportive. Thicker than you’d see on a turian maiden. Her mandibles weren’t gracefully arched or coquettishly clicking. In fact, she didn’t have mandibles at all. She had those red, soft, plump things. Still, there was something so pleasing about those, uh … curves. And the lips. Red, soft, plump --

“Hee. Shepard ...” Wrex broke Garrus’s concentration. He smiled with unfocused eyes. “Be an equal match for a krogan warrior, even being so little and squishy.”

“What?” Garrus snorted and slung the rifled over his back. “For you? Between the two of us, who's been on more missions? She wanted a krogan warrior that's a strange way of showing it.”

“For a couple of pyjaks, you use a rock. Colossus appears, you toss your rock away and get the missile launcher. There's a real fight, she calls me.”

Garrus narrowed his eyes. “Let’s get Shepard. If you’re ready …”

“Me? I’m always ready, kid.”

* * *

Garrus and Wrex lingered by the Mako. The locker room across the cargo hold murmured with low voices. Shadows moved in the doorway’s light. Garrus checked his Omni-Tool again and sighed.

“Calm down, Little Rock.”

“You want a fight, call me that more time, Krogan.”

“Ha. You’re a turian. Only way to beat a krogan is hide under a salarian's lab coat.”

Garrus clenched down on his breath. He bit back the words boiling in his throat.

“Where’s Shepard?” he said instead and charged across the cargo bay.

“Need Shepard to fight your battle?” Wrex stalked after him.

Garrus glanced back at him. “Go back and wait. I’m her second hand on these types of missions.”

“Ha! You're just there to open doors.”

“Stop following me.”

Garrus’s feet slowed hearing Shepard’s voice ahead. It projected from the locker room door. She was talking to someone. 

“Already picked the pair I’m taking groundside, Ash,” Shepard’s voice said.

Wrex stopped beside Garrus and opened his mouth. Whatever he was about to say would never be said. Shepard’s next words made them both snap to attention.

“Which two you bringing?” Ash asked.

“My favorite," Shepard said, "and the other one.”

Garrus went still. Wrex tilted his head and edged closer to the open doorway.

“Your favorite?” Ash said.

“Hey, you can’t beat that aim.”

Air ballooned in Garrus’s lungs. He pulled himself taller.

“Or the power.”

Wrex's lip curled into an alarmingly broad grin. He bobbed his head. Their eyes met.

“Glad you’re taking at least one you can trust,” Ash said.

“With my life. Other one’s just back up.”

“You sure about that combo though, Commander? You could take--”

“Ah, I’ll be fine. Got one at my side I can depend on. Just knocking off the rust on the other.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Wrex still had that smug smile. Garrus’s blood churned. The krogan was insane if he thought Shepard’s favorite was him. Shepard burst from the locker room. Garrus pulled to attention.

“Oh.” Shepard's steps caught. She turned back to them. “Ah, you’re both here. Excellent. All ready?”

“Extremely ready.” Garrus lifted his chin, mandibles clicking. “Dependably ready.”

“You, Wrex?”

“You're asking a krogan if he’s ready to fight?”

“More like, asking a krogan if he has his medigel topped off and Omni-Tool mods updated.” 

Garrus hummed an amused note and met Wrex’s eyes with a lofty pointedness. Shepard spun to Garrus.

“And, you. You got that new scope sighted? I’m not waiting. While you’re tinkering, Wrex and I’ll be dismembering flashlight heads.” Garrus’s mouth clicked shut. 

Wrex's teeth gleamed. “Don’t worry, Turian. You’re a good back up.”

"Your back up?" Garrus spat. “My _aim_ and _power_ kills more from afar than you do up close, Krogan.” Garrus patted his sniper rifle for emphasis.

“Hey, hey," Shepard said. "Let’s stop bragging how ready we are and move on to the demonstration, all right?"

She sprinted toward the mako. Wrex chuckled and fell in beside Garrus. He curved his hands in the air on Shepard’s silhouette and gave Garrus a lascivious grin.

“Stop!” Garrus batted Wrex’s hands down. “She’ll see, you idiot.”

“What’s the hold up?” Shepard looked over her shoulder.

Wrex raised his voice. “Got nice curves, Commander.”

Shepard paused midstep. “Oh. Well, thanks, Wrex. If we’re trading compliments, you have a nice shoulder hump. Read it’s related to krogan status. What’s the matter with you Garrus? Your scope is unhinged by the way.” 

She bobbed on her heels and disappeared around the side of the mako. Garrus growled. He smacked the squirrely scope back into place again. 

Wrex leaned into him. “Reading up on krogan. Likes my shoulder hump.”

Garrus latched the scope so roughly the base popped. His mandibles flared. “She reads about all the races aboard. She was just asking me about dextro-amino acids.”

“Didn’t compliment your carapace, though, did she?” Wrex hefted his shotgun and strode toward the passenger side door.

“You realize you’re the Other One, right?” Garrus jogged after him.

Wrex’s hand touched the door handle. “Jealous, Turian?”

“Of what, Krogan?” Garrus brushed in front of Wrex. He grabbed the handle himself overlapping Wrex’s meaty hand. “I’m ladar today.”

“You’re in back like usual,” Wrex said.

“You don’t fit up front.”

“You’re sniper. You get the canon.”

“Canon’s more shotgun than sniper weapon. Back off.”

“Back down, kid.” 

Their shoulders slammed together, elbows shoving, feet stomping over each other. They jerked at the handle.

“I’m riding by Shepard,” Garrus hissed under his breath.

“I’m riding by Shepard.” Wrex smashed Garrus’s body sideways into the mako. 

Shepard raised herself up on the driver’s seat. She squinted at them through the glass. Her nose scrunched. Whatever she said was muffled against the crunch of bone and roar of blood in Garrus's ears.

Garrus’s talons slipped on the handle. Wrex yanked the passenger door open. It flew wide, and Garrus tumbled backward. He was quick on his feet though. Wrex moved to step inside. Garrus shot under his arms and launched himself onto the bench. A poof of dust clogged his nose.

"Ha! Better call on your spirits, Turian!” Wrex’s voiced boomed, half laugh, half roar.

He threw himself on Garrus. Garrus kicked him in the mouth and snagged a hold on the seat cushions. Wrex tore at him, but Garrus’s talons clawed deeper. The krogan was strong. Garrus's chest crunched under Wrex’s weight. Garrus struggled to place his feet in the center of Wrex’s chest. Garrus’s secret weapon: he had legs like coiled springs.

“Only warning!” Garrus bellowed, but it came out a breathless grunt.

One well-timed, spring-loaded, two-footed release and Wrex would be sliding down the wall across the cargo hold. Wrex gripped Garrus’s arm in a vice. Garrus had to get loose first. He'd be sending Wrex with a consolation prize if he didn't.

“I mean it,” Garrus snarled.

Something slammed into Garrus from behind. He cartwheeled over Wrex’s back, vision burning blue. He landed smack on his back staring up at the ceiling and gasping for breath. The floor quaked next to him. Wrex rolled against Garrus’s side also flat on his back. 

Garrus shoved him away and struggled to sit up. A gun barrel filled Garrus’s vision. He froze. Another barrel jammed into Wrex’s face. 

“What the hell's going on?” Shepard skin still glowed with a biotic corona. Her fingers tightened on the pistols. “This isn’t the family station wagon where you bicker over seats. You can’t wait ten minutes to fight geth instead of fighting each other?”

Wrex’s low chuckled built into a full laugh.

“This is funny, Wrex?” Shepard said.

“Ha! That hit had force. Didn’t think human biotics could flip a krogan.”

“Can when they’re pissed,” Shepard said. “Now, what’s going on?”

Garrus focused on the pistol in his face. “I called the front first.”

“I don’t care if the shape of your ass was engraved on the front seat,” Shepard said. “And you, Wrex. Really? He was in the seat first.” Shepard waited, but they both stayed silent. “Okay, we’re done? Fight’s over? Good.” She lowered the pistols and stood over them.

Garrus avoided her eyes and sat up. “You’d really shoot us?”

“Many battlemasters shoot unruly underlings.” Wrex got to his feet. “Fair’s, fair.”

“I was getting your attention. Worked,” Shepard said. She turned the pistols in her hands and chuckled. “Ash said I didn’t need this one, wanted me to take the Viper lll. Rusty, little undependable, but great grip. Sometimes the back up comes in handy after all.”

Garrus’s body stiffened. Everything unfocused except for Shepard's two pistols. 

“Backup?” Garrus echoed. “And then, that other one? It’s your favorite?”

Shepard lifted the Hurricane IV in her right hand. “You’ve seen it a hundred times. Always take it with me. Of course, it’s my favorite. Trust it with my life.”

“Favorite,” Garrus repeated. His eyes slid to Wrex.

Wrex’s mouth hung open. “The Favorite. And the Other One. Hmph.”

“Right.” Shepard said slowly and looked between them. “What’s this really about? It isn't really about the front seat is it?”

Garrus struggled to his feet. He cut in before Wrex could say something undignified. “Just a little tiff over seat assignments, Commander. Krogan doesn’t like taking direction from a turian. That's all.” 

"The turian--"

“Turian? Krogan?” Shepard spat. “Oh, come on. We don’t have names? What am I? Human number one?”

"He's impossible..” Garrus waved at Wrex.

“The turian is trying to fight me for you.” Wrex lifted his chin high and showed his teeth.

“What?” Shepard blinked.

“We both like you in your white night shirt,” Wrex said. “If you were asari, might consider a breeding arrangement. Turian feels the same. Won’t say it, but it’s obvious.”

Garrus sputtered. “If she wants company, it’s not for breeding. She’s an Alliance officer. Of course, a krogan doesn’t understand military conduct.”

“Never expect a turian to seize what he wants. Tenacity. You take action, not whimper for a front seat.”

“Stop!” Shepard stomped between them. She looked them each in the eye. “I’m not looking for a breeding contract or any company. Not that way. Not right now at least.”

“I can wait,” Wrex said.

Garrus’s talons balled into fists. “She’s not interested.”

“Garrus.” Shepard put a hand on his shoulder and silenced him. “Look. I’m flattered. A breeding contract would thrill my mom into retirement. But we’ve got other things to worry about right now. Namely, those geth overrunning the Alliance research station. We’re wasting time talking about my nightshirt and cage fighting over the front seat. Look, you two can’t get along, I’ll get Alenko or Williams down here. Make them happy. Alenko's been watching me like a puppy with a leash in his mouth.”

Garrus and Wrex eyed each other warily. Neither moved. Shepard sighed.

“Very well. I’ll be the bigger person,” Garrus said. He brushed the cargo dust off his armor and squared himself to Wrex. “I apologize. We shouldn’t have tussled over the front seat and over who Shepard -- Nevermind. It was indignant for two soldiers is what I'm saying. I apologize.”

The glint in Wrex’s eye mellowed. He clapped Garrus on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You fight well enough, Tur—Garrus. Ha. You held me off long enough, I’m impressed. Might bother to learn your name now.”

Garrus’s eyes narrowed. “I could have sent you flying.“ He caught Shepard’s sharp look. “Though, I’m sure you could have done your worst too.”

“All right.” Shepard said. “We’re all square? Wrex could have made you 2-D, Garrus. Wrex, Garrus has legs like a spring-loaded firing pin. You’d have a pair of Turian-footprints permanently indenting your breastplate. Now, I’m glad we all made it to a first name basis.” She put an arm around Wrex and gathered Garrus under her other arm. A smile played on her lips. “Kinda like family. Brawling over front seats and making up with begrudging hugs. My guys.” Shepard squeezed them together then backed way. She turned to the mako.

“Smells good, doesn’t she?” Wrex said. 

“Hell of a woman.” Garrus followed her with his eyes.

Wrex chuckled. “One day she’ll want more than this. Hope one of us is around for it.”

“Me too,” Garrus said. His chest fluttered remembering her smile. “Me too.”

They walked to the mako shoulder to shoulder and both reached for the back door.

“You get the front by Shepard,” Wrex said. He pushed Garrus back a step.

“No, you get the front by Shepard,” Garrus said and shoved him back.

Their eyes locked. Wrex grinned. Expletives blurted from the driver’s seat. They slammed into each other, shoulder grinding, twisting at the door handle. Who knew there was a krogan Garrus would actually like? 


End file.
